“Jam it,” said the violinist
“there goes the hell,” said the guitarist
while the vocal artist sang the dead tunes of winter
now in the month of June it felt like a December solstice
when she would tie her head in a drape calling for the days
that she roamed around the outskirts of Montreal
She sang the Marine Song of long farewell
While on the beach in Mexico she had left the seas to become a doctor
and in the US she fairly lipped the tunes of time
She sang a lovely forlorn tune of separation
The lead drummer caught in the eye of the storm
and said Good Bye!
While she hovered with an intellectual,
who was dead drunk on time and space
and who held her hand and danced the time to forget
The Evil Afternoon he took the bus to Puerto Rico
And slept on the floors of the bus station as if mopped by wind in his salutation
She called the evil afternoon a gay science to recover from
throngs of love.
They both skid on the surface of sea to stop the killer love game
of evil afternoon in its empty shoes!